Drabbles
by Mariico
Summary: A garbage dump of random, pointless drabbles featuring our two favorite characters and Hogwarts' most popular couple, Hermione Granger and Voldemort.
1. Prompt: Olympics

**Author's Note: **This will be the place where I dump short drabble prompts that I write. Each one is short, so I won't have to spend much time writing them, but they're little pointless snippets that you can read while I continue writing the other stories.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

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**Prompt:** Olympics

"Is that...?"

"It is." Harry grimaced, looking as the darkest wizard of all time stood in his naked galore, ready to push off the block and dive in to the water. Hermione had to admit that even though his face was pale, his eyes blood red and his arms skinny, the rest of his body was still a pretty sight for the eyes. She couldn't quite tear her eyes off of him. "Why is he swimming naked? Isn't it against the rules?"

"Bloody hell, mate. No one's going to go up to him and tell him to put some clothes on." Ron said from Harry's other side. He shuddered at the mere thought.

The beep sounded, and the eight swimmers dived in to the water. The crowd stared as Voldemort, the light reflecting off of his pale skin, belly flopped in to the pool, sinking as fast as a rock. After what seemed to be ages, he reappeared above the surface and slowly doggy paddled across the pool.

Hermione couldn't help but think, though, that she had never seen a doggy paddle so attractive.

The crowd held its breath as the swimmers began lapping him. His eyes darkened and his face twisted in a snarl, he pulled out his wand from what seemed to be thin air, and crucio'd everyone who passed him, a satisfied smirk on his face when his other opponents cowered in fear and got the message and began swimming backwards. Seemingly satisfied, he continued down the lane. The swimmers in the lanes near him fled as far as they could, leaving the entire center of the pool for him.

Lifeguards and other people began jumping in, helping the swimmers who were thrashing in the pool. However, no one dared to approach Voldemort, who had now taken the lead and was taking his sweet time floating on his back, all his drool worthy parts on display for everyone to see.

Hermione was sure her face was completely red as she watched him touch the wall first, winning the gold medal. Her face seemed to explode on fire when his eyes found hers in the crowd and he smirked at her, obviously noting the way she was staring at him.

Without taking her eyes off of him, she leaned closer to Harry and said, "Hey, do you happen to have a camera?"


	2. Prompt: Romance Addiction

**Author's Note: **Drabble number two. Leave me a review or PM me with prompts that you want me to do. (Yayy, I rhymed.) Any idea would be appreciated, since I'm really bad at coming up with prompts myself.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

Thanks for reviewing. Enjoy the chapter.

brightneeBee, Mighty Ruler of Gummi Bears, andiescandie, asianstotheleft, voldyismyfather, Nerys, AMUTOforever305

Mighty Ruler of Gummi Bears: Erm yes, I suppose it would be pale…not that I've ever seen it before, nope.

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**Prompt: **Romance Addiction

"You got to be kidding me,"

"On contrary, Miss Granger, I am very serious." Voldemort accepted the glass without thanking her; not that she expected him to. His eyes remained glued to the television, even as he took a sip and made a face. "What is this disgusting liquid?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's water. Surely, you've tasted it before." She sat down next to him, looking at the screen. She raised an eyebrow. "So, you're addicted to watching romance now? You've been watching tv all day."

"Yes," Voldemort said, his eyes never leaving the screen. It was Titanic, Hermione realized, watching as Rose and Jack kissed for the first time. She herself had watched it once, years ago. While it had not been a terrible movie in her opinion, it was much too romantic for her taste. She never believed the whole concept of 'love at first sight.' After all, when she and Voldemort first saw each other, they were on the battlefield, trying to kill each other. Though, she reasoned with herself, what she had with Voldemort now wasn't love; at least, it wasn't love on his part.

The fact that Voldemort was watching romantic movies scared her. He never did anything without a motive, and to make him watch _romantic _movies, there had to be one hell of a motive.

"And what's so appealing about it?"

Voldemort sighed. "It amuses me," he paused dramatically. "To watch these blithering idiots declare their love for each other in every way possible. A complete waste of time," Hermione decided that it was wise not to comment that he himself was wasting time watching the said couples. That would not end well. "They also seem to have an obsession attaching those dreadful names to the end of each sentence."

Hermione agreed, but just to spite him, said, "I think it's sweet."

Voldemort tore his eyes off the television screen and looked at her. His blood red eyes bore in to her own, but his other features were schooled in an innocent expression. He tilted his head to one side, and a seemingly genuine smile formed on his face. "Hermione, my dear, I love you."

Hermione giggled as Voldemort leaned in even closer, placing his hands on her knee and blinking quickly in an attractive way. "No really, honey, I can't live without you. You are my sunshine." He took both her hands in to his. "You light up my world. You are the reason I get up every morning, darling. I can't imagine a world without you."

"Phenomenal acting." Hermione laughed. "Laying it a bit thick with the names, though."

Abruptly, he dropped her hands and turned back to the television, the innocent look still on his face. "That's how they all do it." His voice became ridiculously high pitched. "_Darling, honey, sugarplum, baby cake, sweetheart._" He reverted back to his regular voice. "Morons. The Cruciatus curse is much more effective."

Hermione snorted. "Only you can talk about torturing with that smile on your face."

Voldemort cast her a sideways look, and then reached for the remote. "Enough with this madness." He pressed a few buttons on the remote control, found a channel that he liked, and leaned back comfortably. "Much better," he said. "No more love declarations."

Hermione blinked at the screen, and then looked at Voldemort. He had a look of content on his face as he watched. Hermione looked back at the television to make sure that she wasn't seeing things. Her suspicions were confirmed when Voldemort's hand went back to the remote control and turned up the volume.

"You're also addicted to porn?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Very subtle with the volume, Voldy. Very subtle.

And that's exactly what I am right now (not the porn addiction, the romance addiction, thank you very much.) You kind of wonder after watching five romantic movies a day for the last few weeks if you have a life.

As for Titanic, I happen to love that movie, so if I offended anyone, it was Voldemort's fault, not me. *runs away*


	3. Prompt: A Tree in Albania

**Author's Note: **So I'm currently working on my Secret Santa fic, and then I also started a oneshot, but don't worry; I haven't abandoned GD. (I even wrote the outline for the next chapter. Aren't you proud of me? xD) Though I'm revising the first few chapters of that, so it might take a while for the next update…sorry. :c Meanwhile, enjoy this little drabble that I wrote.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

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**Prompt: **A Tree in Albania

"A tree in Albania," Tom muttered, his eyes sweeping around his surroundings. "A hollow tree in Albania. What the _fuck_?"

In front of him were endless rows of trees. Exactly how was he supposed to figure out which one contained the diadem inside? Maybe that damn Grey Lady had tricked him so she could run off to find Dumbledore to come and capture him in the act. However, he highly doubted that; he had charmed her, after all, and it had always been quite effective.

He supposed he could've forced her to be more specific, but he doubted she could've said more even if she tried. The stupid girl had barely been any use—other than chasing him here with such a vague clue.

Normally, he didn't mind as long as he got an important piece of information. However, he had to be back at school before sunrise to prevent Dumbledore from getting suspicious. He would've came during the holidays, though the old codger had managed to put yet another restriction on his life—he was not to leave the orphanage no matter what the circumstances were. He had tried slipping out, of course, but that had been the first time he had gotten detention. His perfect track record was ruined. Dumbledore had threatened worse the next time he left. Besides, winter holiday was in two months; Tom couldn't wait that long.

Tom sighed; once he got the diadem and got back to Hogwarts, the Grey Lady was going to be happy she died so quickly. This was a complete waste of time. Had he been crankier when they had spoken, he would've imperio'd her and made her get the diadem by herself. The only reason he came rather than sending one of his followers was so he could see the diadem when it was unveiled at last. And he didn't trust his blubbering followers with something as important as this.

Tom looked at the tree towering before him. What exactly was he supposed to do to see if it was hollow—or more importantly, see if there was a diadem inside? It was easier to burn the whole forest rather than searching tree by tree, but he didn't want to risk damaging the diadem in any way. He needed it for a horcrux, so it was crucial that the diadem remained in one piece when he found it.

He took his wand out of his pocket. It had been his best friend—his definition of friend, anyway—since the moment the two of them had met. It understood him like no one else did, and it followed his orders without any protest or questioning. In essence, his wand was his ideal follower. And it killed him to admit it, but he could not live without it. Not now, at least, when he hadn't perfected the art of wandless magic.

He was about to slit the tree into many pieces when the sound of footsteps stopped him in his tracks. He turned around as silently as he could, making sure not to step on any branches or twigs that might give away his location.

In front of him was a girl who was wearing Hogwarts' robes, even though he had never seen her before. She had frizzy hair, chestnut eyes and a gap between her front teeth. She was, essentially, the ugliest girl Tom Riddle had ever seen, though Tom had never cared about looks—and neither, apparently, did she.

However, he noticed that her eyes were narrowed, scanning her surroundings suspiciously. Her wand was out as well, held in a way so that she could fire off a curse quickly should she need to. Her stance was well positioned so she could move easily. 'Well,' Tom smirked to himself. 'At least she had _some_ brain hidden inside that wild mane of hers.'

Feeling rather curious about her, he disillusioned himself and trailed after her. His suspicions arose when he noticed her inspecting tree after tree. Was she after the same thing that he was? But that was impossible; the diadem had been lost for centuries. He had barely managed to coax the location from the Grey Lady, and he didn't blame her for telling him; he _was_ perfect, after all. It was hard to resist his charms.

Tom snorted as he looked at the girl; he didn't think that the Grey Lady would be too obliged to tell the beaver lookalike if she had asked.

His suspicions arose when she began knocking on the trunk of every tree. Some of the knocks made no noise, and Tom thought she was simply wasting her time. To his surprise, when she knocked on a rather tall tree, a nice hollow sound echoed. Tom narrowed his eyes; was the girl also testing for a hollow tree? Was she trying to get the diadem as well? He could not allow that. On top of that, how did she know to knock on the wood?

He closed the space between them in two big steps and flicked his wand. Quietly, he pressed his wand tip against her neck, hard enough to make a mark. Now at such a close proximity, he could smell a hint of lavender on her. It wasn't overly strong, like the perfume he had been so used to smelling at Hogwarts. Leaning closer to her, he whispered harshly in her ear, "Drop your wand."

The girl didn't turn around, nor did she seem surprised that he was there at all. Instead of following his orders, she flicked her wand as well and Tom felt his disillusionment charm fade away. Nonverbal. Impressive. Not many people he knew could do so. Even most of the professors at Hogwarts couldn't manage such basic magic.

She, however, didn't even turn around to see who he was. Instead, she said, "Hello, Tom Riddle." And went back to what she was doing before. She ignored him and Tom didn't like that; he was not used to being ignored. Everyone always fanned him with attention.

Tom narrowed his eyes and pressed his wand tip deeper in to her neck. Aside from tensing a little, she showed no other reaction. "How do you know who I am?" he demanded. "Why are you here? Did Dumbledore send you?"

"So many questions," the girl tsked, sounding rather amused, finally turning around to face him. If he expected her to start babbling nonsense after seeing his appearance, he was terribly mistaken; her eyes stayed on his face and there was neither giggling nor anything else. Her face was impassive, and it irked Tom to no end. "I've seen you around. And no, I do not work for _Professor_ Dumbledore." Her lips twitched up.

"Where?"

"Hogwarts, silly. I would think that you would know people in your own house. But then, that would be explainable, since you were only first year when I was seventh. I can definitely see how you could've forgotten."

Tom frowned, her jab at his memory not going unnoticed. He prided himself for being able to remember more than most, so the fact that there wasn't even a little recognition was suspicious to him. "What's your name?"

"Doesn't matter," the girl shrugged. She stepped away from his wand and he let her, though he kept it still trained on her. "What are you here for? Some rubies, diamonds, other priceless treasures?"

"Is that what you're here for?" Tom kept his voice neutral and his face impassive, lest he gave something important away.

"No, I'm looking for some sort of animal," the girl shrugged again. "My friend told me about them. She said that they only live in hollow trees in Albania," she grinned. "Luckily for me, Albania only has one tree, right?" She sighed and looked sadly at the endless rows of vegetation. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Tom snapped, going back to his work. He would kill her, but not now; he would rather not waste his precious time dueling the girl. While he was sure he would be able to take her out fairly quickly, he didn't want her to accidentally damage the diadem. Also, she could be a help for him; she was looking for hollow trees as well, was she not? Her whole story was suspicious, but he pretended to buy it anyway. She could unwillingly do half of his work for him. It would make things go by so much faster.

The girl raised an eyebrow at his tone, but shrugged it off and went back to knocking on the trees. He really hated to admit he was wrong, and even more he hated copying other people, but he could not see another way to do it effectively. And that was the key: he was under time restrictions. He swallowed his pride and copied her movements, knocking on each tree's trunk.

He could hear her snicker, but he ignored it.

The two of them searched peacefully. He stayed on his end and she stayed on hers. The forest was completely silent other than the occasional footsteps they made, so Tom became even more suspicious of this so called 'animal' she was looking for. He knew the story was fake now, but what was her real intention for being here? Why did she have to hide it? He would find out soon enough.

Tom cut open a tree with red leaves. Red had always been his favorite color; it was the color of blood, after all, and that was his favorite thing to see. The tree opened up, and Tom stared inside, his mouth slowly curling up in to a smirk. He had found it. He had finally found the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. After so many before him had tried, he was the only one who succeeded. He stared at it greedily, his eyes drinking it in.

A small movement to his left caught his eye. To a normal person, it was so tiny they wouldn't have been bothered about it. Their brains might not have even registered it. However, he was Tom Riddle, and he noticed everything. In a split second, he grabbed the diadem and took out his wand, flicking it.

The girl had moved so she had been positioned right behind him. She moved fast, but not fast enough. Her wand flew out of her hands and landed at his feet, and he pointed his wand at her, a smirk appearing on his face. The girl no longer had her amused look on her face, and instead crossed her arms and scowled at him.

"What's your plan now?" Tom said cruelly, tossing the diadem up and down to taunt her. Her eyes followed the movement, but there was nothing she could do now that he had her wand. Tom could beat her easily when she was unarmed—and strangely, she seemed to know it. Maybe she hadn't been lying about being at Hogwarts with him, but he was almost certain she was. She lied about her motives for being in the forest, so she could've lied about everything that she had said to him.

How did she know so much about him then?

"I don't know," the girl frowned. She was doing well on not showing any emotion, but he could see her hand trembling a little. Her eyes, though they stared at him defiantly, couldn't seem to hold eye contact for very long. '_Good_' Tom thought cruelly. '_She should fear me, as well as everyone should.' _"I hadn't really thought this far."

"No?" Tom smirked maliciously, twirling his wand in between his fingers. She eyed it, a bit of insecurity crossing her eyes. "Then, do you know what happens next?"

"No." She didn't seem to care, even, but unfortunately for her, Tom would make sure that she knew the ending of this story.

His lips curled up. "You die," he whispered, bringing his wand down. A jet of green light shot out from the tip, and then it disappeared. The girl fell, lying by his feet, her eyes open but unseeing. He glanced at the diadem. Cruel, unremorseful murder, Slughorn had said, and Tom had done exactly that.

Tom tucked the diadem inside his robe pocket. Now that the murder part was done, the rest he could finish at school. He would get another horcrux soon. He smirked proudly as he gazed down at his victims. It wouldn't be long. But first, he needed to satisfy his curiosity.

He bent down and searched through her robes, taking out multiple papers. He found one with a giant picture of her, as well as the words 'Hermione Jean Granger' underneath. Tom raised an eyebrow; she did not deserve such a melodic name.

Her birthday appeared as 'September 19th, 1979.' Tom frowned; she was from the future? How had she managed to come back so many years? He had tried multiple times to go to the future to see what he looked like, but he could not do so. He almost regretted killing her; think of all the information she could've given him if he had let her live. But if he had, there would be a chance she could run off and tell someone. There weren't many places he could hide a person while he was at Hogwarts. If only he had met her after he graduated.

Her blood status said muggleborn, and Tom wanted to laugh. He had used a muggleborn to make a horcrux. Sure, he used Myrtle's death to create one, but in that case, it was accidental. Now, he had full intention to kill her while Myrtle was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But perhaps, that was the case with Hermione Jean Granger as well.

There was one more thing in her robe pockets—one piece of parchment with some words scribbled on it. The ink stained the page, but the writing was still legible. Tom held it up to what remained of the sunlight and read the last thing Hermione had ever written.

_Mission: Get the diadem before Tom Riddle does._


	4. Prompt: Medicine

**Author's Note: **Read my Halloween story, Mistress of Halloween. It's AU for anyone who likes those. Meanwhile, I'm slowly trekking along with my Secret Santa fic, so it might take a while before I upload anything else.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

* * *

**Prompt: **Medicine

"Open up wide. Say 'ahh'"

"The _fuck_, Granger?" Tom glared as he attempted to push her away from him. Unfortunately, she didn't budge and continued to look at him with the innocent smile of hers plastered on his face. Tom reached for his wand to blast her away, but found that he was dressed in a piece of cloth that barely covered his body, much less any pockets to hold his wand. "What the hell is this?"

She tried to keep the naïve look on her face, but it proved too much for her, as she quickly dropped her act and smirked at him. "That, Mister Riddle, is your clothes. Stop pulling at them. You wouldn't want your bits to show, would you?"

Tom noted that, however, she wasn't even attempting to look at them, and it greatly irked him. He thought about jumping out of the cot and flashing them at her in a way that she would _have_ to look—he could image the look of shock and appreciation that would appear on her face—but decided not to do so. It was too rash of an action, and it was her loss if she didn't want to get a glimpse of the fabulous Head Boy.

"Why am I here?" Tom scowled angrily, rubbing his head. He could not remember anything after coming out of another silly meeting with Slughorn. The professor had nearly draped himself all over Tom, and it took all his self control not to push him off. It had been such a relief to get out of the classroom, though he couldn't remember anything else that happened after that.

Hermione merely shrugged, still holding a vial in her hand. It was a murky brown color with unknown substances floating around, and he eyed it suspiciously. She, however, made no move to explain it and said, "You fell down the stairs,"

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "_I_ fell down the stairs?"

"Don't act so surprised," Hermione sniped, trying to force the vial in to his hands. He smacked her hand, and she almost dropped it—a pity she didn't. She caught it clumsily and glared at Tom, who merely stared at the vial and its contents with a look of pure disgust on his face. "You're not perfect."

_But I am damn well close to it_, Tom thought angrily. How dare she use that tone of voice with him, as if she was scolding him? Tom Riddle would get scolded by no one. Anyone who tried to do so would get personally disposed of.

However, he recognized her. Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor mudblood in his year. She was not made Head Girl because she had been absent in the first few weeks of school, but everyone knew that she might as well hold the status anyway. She was a know-it-all bookworm who didn't seem to notice she annoyed everyone with her constant enforcing of rules as well as her bossy lectures. He himself had been very lucky to only have a couple of interactions with her, but even in those rare instances, she never closed her mouth.

True, she could make points that were quite valid and was the only one in the entire school who could make him pause and think about his argument, but she was annoying all the same, so that erased the miniscule amount of respect he had started to build for her.

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" he asked finally, deciding that any sort of death threats would land him in Azkaban faster than he could blink. Dumbledore was still jamming himself down Tom's throat, and he found he could not do anything with that old codger constantly spying on him.

"She needed to go somewhere, and she told me to give this to you when you woke up," once again, she tried to dump the contents of the vial in to his mouth, but he avoided deftly. Hermione scowled at him. "Just take your medicine, and you can go."

"I can go anyway," Tom glared at her, and made to stand up. However, he realized that he still had a lack of clothing. While he did not really mind others gawking at him—he was perfect, after all; there was no need to be ashamed—he had a reputation to uphold as the Head Boy. He most certainly could not parade down the corridors naked—as much as most of the school's population would enjoy the sight.

Hermione stifled a laugh quite poorly, and Tom glared at her again before settling back under the covers. "I'll give you your clothes back if you drink this," she bargained. "It's not that bad. Look how small this vial is."

Tom eyed it suspiciously. "It looks like shit."

"It does," Hermione admitted, wrinkling her nose. "It smells like it too." She looked thoughtful. "Would you like me to hold your nose and cover your eyes? It'll be just like drinking water if you do that."

Tom eyed the slimy particles floating around. "I'm sure."

Hermione sighed, but almost immediately, a determined look appeared on her face. Before Tom could do anything but eye her suspiciously, she leaned in and stared intently at his face.

"You have a really cute nose."

Tom stared at her with a look of disgust as she started poking and squeezing it. She had a fascinated look on her face, as if she were seeing a human nose for the very first time. "Look," she said happily. "It makes a funny sound when you squeeze it." She squeezed his nose twice to emphasis her point.

Tom tried to push her off of him, but either she had given him something to severely weaken his muscles or she was a wall. Nonetheless, he thought about smashing his fist in to her face to see what noise _her_ nose would make when it broke. He opened his mouth to tell her that he was going to report her for molesting and assaulting him while he was defenseless, when she took the opportunity of his open mouth and stuffed the contents of the vial in his mouth.

The taste was terrible, and the liquid burned all the way down his throat. Apparently, now that her mission was successful, his nose was less fascinating to her. She stopped playing with it and sat back, a look of satisfaction on her face.

Tom glared at her. The taste was all too familiar, and a surge of anger pulsed through his body. "Granger, _you—_" He lunged for her, but by then, it was too late. He fell down in front of her, dark spots starting to appear in his vision. He tried to crawl towards her, but found that nearly all his strength had left him.

"Sweet dreams, Riddle," the last thing he saw was the girl giggling. He had never wanted anyone dead more in his life—not even his own father. "You'll thank me one day."

A thousand curses and death threats lay on the tip of his tongue, all dying to be said. However, before he could voice any one of them, he felt all of the energy leave him, and he blacked out on the bed.

* * *

"Mister Weasley, Miss Granger has been helping me all day. You would do well to learn from her example." Madam Pomfrey shook her head and opened the door to the hospital wing. Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Madam Pomfrey cut him off. "I will not hear a word of discouragement from you. If you have enough time to degrade her, you can put it to use and help out next time."

Ron slumped his shoulders and sighed, but nearly bumped in to Madam Pomfrey. The woman was frozen in shock and staring at something with her eyes wide open. Ron stepped around her, and his jaw dropped.

"_Hermione_?"

"Hi Ron," she greeted cheerfully. "How did your Quidditch practice go?"

Ron was too busy staring to even acknowledge her question. "What the bloody hell is that?" He finally managed to say, pointing at the hideous creature next to her. Madam Pomfrey was too shocked to reprimand Ron on his language.

"Oh this," Hermione waved it off, as if it was normal for it to be in the hospital bed next to her, as if everyone had something like that. She gestured towards it, beaming. "Ron, meet my newest friend, the Giant Squid."

* * *

**Author's Note: **First ever shipper of Hermione and the Giant Squid! Woot woot. lol Hermione, enjoy the feeling of Tom's nose, because it isn't going to last. ;)


	5. Prompt: Stolen

**Author's Note: **I actually didn't write this recently. I found this lying on my computer from sometime in July, and decided to make it somewhat presentable. I'm afraid that I'm going through an Avengers phase right now, so I haven't really written anything. Just reading stuff. :x so yeah. probably no updates anytime soon. maybe some edits in earlier chapters, but that's it.

* * *

**Prompt: **Stolen

Tom Marvolo Riddle opened his eyes, his head burning with pain. However, he paid it no mind and quickly sat up. He blinked slowly as his vision cleared, and a brunette woman came in to view. She was pressing a cool cloth to his forehead, a gentle smile on her face. He met her gaze coolly. She had obviously been taking care of him, but he did not feel an ounce of gratitude.

"Hello, dear," the woman gushed, patting his cheeks fondly. Feeling disgusted, Tom flinched and pulled away, a scowl on his face as he stared down the revolting hand. The woman looked slightly crestfallen and miffed by his behavior, but continued with the same kind expression. "I'm Jean Granger."

Tom ignored her and took in his surroundings. There were a few gadgets that he did not recognize, which annoyed him immensely. He liked knowing everything, and the unknown white box on the ceiling which was making strange noises, seemingly mocking him.

There were several bottles next to him. He regarded them coldly, and once he was sure that Mrs. Granger's eyes were on him, he purposely knocked them over. She frowned at him, but shrugged it off. After all, she reasoned with herself, he was a little boy. They often didn't know what they were doing.

"May I know your name?" Mrs. Granger tried. She might as well have been talking to a wall. Tom steadily ignored her, looking at the square box in the corner suspiciously. It was a weird shape for a cardboard box, and was not like anything he had ever seen before.

Mrs. Granger cleared her throat, but the young boy didn't even acknowledge her. Slightly worried, she said, "Honey?" and reached towards the boy, her fingers gently touching his arm.

Tom whipped around, his expression carefully blank, but his eyes as cold as ice. He slowly reached her fingers and threw them away from him. "Don't," he pronounced each word clearly for emphasis. "call me honey. And don't you _dare_ touch me."

Mrs. Granger was shocked speechless, but before she could say anything, he stood up and began drifting towards the door, making sure to knock over in his path. Mrs. Granger looked absolutely shocked. Feeling quite bold, Tom flicked his finger at the beautiful clock on the wall and it came tumbling down, shattering in to millions of pieces. Mrs. Granger was bewildered; the clock generally was very stable. It had not fallen ever since she bought it five years ago. Her confusion delighted Tom, and he stalked out of the room without another word, leaving Mrs. Granger to stare helplessly at the broken glass shards on the floor.

The hallway was a dusty little thing, and Tom wrinkled his nose in disgust. It looked rather like the orphanage. Carpet covered the floor and small lights dotted the ceiling, illuminating the room. Several portraits were hung up on the wall. There were a couple of pictures of Mrs. Granger, and the man who appeared to be her husband. Tom snarled at their happy expressions, the foreign feeling irking him. However, before he could break it, he saw another little girl in the picture. She rather resembled a lion, with her hair messy and untamed. She was smiling cheerfully in all the photos she appeared in, her expression radiant and full of happiness. Tom made a face, taking in her wild hair and her buck teeth.

"Hermione," he read off the bottom of the frame. "What an ugly name. Just like her."

He spun around to leave, but was caught off guard by the appearance of the young girl who was blocking the hallway. She was the replica of the girl in the pictures, except her arms were now crossed and a scowl was on her face as she regarded him.

"I'm not ugly!" She exclaimed. Tom noted that there was a gap between her two front teeth, which further disproved her statement. "And my name isn't ugly either! And neither is Mummy, so don't you insult her!"

Tom smirked, deciding already that he quite liked the girl. She had a certain fire in him that was missing from a lot of the people he met. "Eavesdropping, are we?"

Hermione flushed slightly at being caught, but her voice was steady when she said, "Don't you dare talk to my mummy like that!" To Tom's surprise, she took a step closer. Either she underestimated him, or she was extremely confident in her skills. Both were absolutely unacceptable. He would have to change that.

Tom regarded her with an amused expression. He rather enjoyed her feistiness, a trait that he particularly loved destroying. However, to his surprise, before he could say anything, Hermione pointed something pink and shiny at him, her face shining triumphantly.

Tom blinked slowly. "What's that?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a wand, dummy." She shook the wand for emphasis. "I have you cornered! Surrender, fiend!"

Tom's expression darkened, both at her nickname for him and her knowledge of magic. "That is not a real wand. A real wand is brown, and is far superior to that." He eyed the hideous pink stick with disgust. A sneer crossed his face. "Mudbloods like you aren't allowed to hold _real_ wands."

"It _is_ a real wand!" Hermione argued back. "I disguised my wand like this so no one would accuse me of doing underage magic." She grinned proudly at her accomplishment. She determinedly ignored his last statement, because she didn't understand what he meant by that. Did he mean that there was mud inside of her, flowing around like blood? Hermione wrinkled her nose at the mental image.

"How do you know what underage magic is?" Tom asked suspiciously. "You're a muggle."

Hermione looked offended. "I'm four!" She said hotly, wrongly assuming that muggle symbolized an age. "I real a lot of books about magic. I find them on the streets sometimes." Tom regarded her suspiciously, but she held her ground. There was no way she was going to admit that she stole them. Her mummy had told her stealing was bad, but the books were just so tempting. She had just grabbed one when she passed by and forgot to give it back.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. "How do _you_ know? You're a muggle too, aren't you?"

Before she could even blink, Hermione was quickly pinned against the wall. Tom had a tight grip on her neck, and a murderous look covered his face. His eyes bore holes in to her head.

"Don't," he hissed at her. "_Ever_ compare me to you. I am _not_ a muggle. Mudbloods aren't fit to be wizards, while _I_," he gestured to himself. "Will be the greatest wizard who ever lived." He cocked his head to one side, the threatening expression still on his face. "Are we clear?"

Feeling as rebellious as she could given their position, she merely glared at him and shook her head, trying to pry his fingers away from her neck. He merely dropped her to the floor, and she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Tom paid her no mind and easily plucked the wand from her and smiled evilly at it, his fingers tracing patters over it.

Before he left, he turned back to look at Hermione, who was still panting. For a four year old, she was holding up rather well. He had dealt with adults before, and they had all broken after he tried to suffocate them. However, this little girl was still staring at him angrily, the fight not yet gone from her.

He had done that to Mrs. Cole before, when she refused to let him go outside for recess with the other kids. It was after Amy and Dennis had been found crazy after being in the cave with him. Dumbledore had immediately been come—Tom had a sneaking suspicion that the old man was keeping tabs on him, though he denied it—and warned Mrs. Cole about what a _terrible_ boy he was.

And though Mrs. Cole already knew that fact, Dumbledore's visit only made her believe it even more. She locked him up whenever she could, kept him away from everyone else and isolated him whenever possible. It only took a couple of days for him to exhaust all of his books, and when he asked for more, she promptly ignored him. _Something_ had to be done, and Tom decided to put Mrs. Cole in her place. She was not superior to him; he was superior to _all_.

Tom smirked down at Hermione, who had gotten to her feet shakily and stared defiantly at him. In the sweetest smile he could muster, he said innocently, "I read books too. _Stolen_ books."

He turned around without another word and left, leaving her to stare at the spot he had just been in.


End file.
